Page:Old Melbourne Memories.djvu/266

 Where the plains glowed red in tremulous light, Where the haunting mirage mocked the sight Of desperate men from morn till night,— And the streams had long been dry.

Where we dug for gold on the mountain-side, Where the ice-fed river ran; In frost and blast, through fire and snow, Where an Englishman could live and go, We've followed our luck through weal and woe, And never asked help from man.

And now it's over, it's hard to die Ere the summer of life is o'er, When the pulse beats high and the limbs are stark, Ere time has printed one warning mark, To quit the light for the unknown dark, And, O God! to see home no more!

No more! no more! I that always vowed That, whether or rich or poor, Whatever the years might bring or change, I would one day stand by the grey old grange, And the children would gather, all shy and strange, As I entered the well-known door.

You will go home to the old place, Jack; Then tell my mother for me, That I thought of the words she used to say, Her looks, her tones, as I dying lay, That I prayed to God, as I used to pray When I knelt beside her knee.